


sokka and the big book of feminism

by dino5678



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Local Friendship Deepens Into Something More, M/M, Sokka says gay rights, hello zukka nation, somewhere between slow and medium burn, teen antics, we love our allies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dino5678/pseuds/dino5678
Summary: Sokka doesn’t “go through phases,” of course, because he was born perfect.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 96





	sokka and the big book of feminism

**Author's Note:**

> after growing up with kataang and zutara as the only two options i have discovered zukka in my 20s and become unstoppable. gay rights.

Back in the early days with Aang, when he’d tried to run away to spare them the trouble of helping him save the world, Sokka had tied him to a tree. Once Sokka’s dad told him, _Saving the world is like eating a seal-aphant: you bring your whole tribe, and take it one bite at a time_. Maybe that’s what Sokka should have said to Aang back then. Instead he’d just said _I fucking hate martyrs_ , which was, admittedly, a shorter version of the same thing.

* * *

“Where is my hair piece? I just had it,” says Katara.

Sharp, suspicious eyes. Something interesting on an otherwise lazy weekend afternoon in the Fire Nation palace: the four of them – Sokka, Aang, Katara, Zuko – around the lunch table, Sokka lazing in his chair, empty bowl of fire flakes, scattered board game pieces.

“Aang,” says Katara, “Did you see what happened to my hair band?”

“Uh, no,” says Aang. “Don’t have it. Sokka?”

“Nope,” says Sokka. “Hey, maybe the universe is trying to tell you something about your hair style.”

“Good try,” says Katara, nose in the air. “Zuko?”

“Haven’t seen it.”

Zuko, bent so far over a scroll his nose is nearly touching it, doesn’t even look up. Typical. He’s so hard to convince to let loose, _always_ working, no matter how much Iroh tells him, tells all of them, in his wise, earthy way, “You may have inherited tremendous responsibility, my young friends, but you are still very young, and that means you need to rest and have fun – not spend all your time fixing the world!”

Aang, at least, doesn’t need to be told twice. Aang is great at resting and having fun, and Sokka has, frankly, learned a lot from the kid – for example, that taking a break once in a while is, like, really essential if you’re even going to entertain the _plan_ of making any kind of real change. It’s harder for Zuko, though. Probably because Zuko was brought up in such a no-fun environment.

Sokka is about to conclude that yep, that’s Zuko, just a no-fun guy, when something winks in the corner of his vision. Something gold. Zuko’s hand, tucked behind his back, has opened. In it is – no way – Katara’s gold hair band.

When Sokka looks disbelievingly back at Zuko’s face, Zuko is looking back at him out of the corner of his eye. The guy is clearly trying to maintain a straight face, but one side of his mouth tugs irrepressibly upward.

Sokka realizes he’s gaping, and whirls around to face forward, shutting his mouth tight around his grin. Aang is still trying to talk Katara through the process of when she’d last seen it, and Katara is insisting “It was right there, Aang! I feel like one of you must have taken it … right?”

“Don’t look at me,” says Sokka loudly, when she looks at him. “I swear, the universe wants you to put your hair loopies back! Thanks, universe,” he says to the ceiling. “It’s about time you told my sister she needs to look normal again.”

“Now I’m thinking you definitely took it,” says Katara. “Where is it! Show me!”

She reaches for him, and he dodges, then yelps when she splashes him with water from the pitcher with a wave of her hand. “Give it! Let me – aargh!”

Behind Katara’s shoulder – Sokka sees as he struggles with his _master waterbender sister, a little help here????_ – Zuko has stopped pretending to concentrate. When Aang makes amused eye contact with him, Zuko winks, and holds up the hair band. Aang visibly gapes, then grins one of his fill-up-the-room grins.

Maybe Katara has seen Sokka looking somewhere else, because she whirls around. Zuko jerks the scroll back to his face. Aang doesn’t quite manage to look innocent enough, because she says _“Aang…?”_ in a voice that means trouble.

As Sokka watches his little sister chase the Avatar around the table, with great enjoyment, he feels fingers touch the top of his wrist. Zuko, without looking at him, fumbles for his hand, wraps his fingers around Sokka’s palm, turns it over, and presses Katara’s hair band into it. The brassy metal ring is warm.

Trying to school his expression into a poker face, Sokka puts his hand under the table, pushing it into the loose cloth of his Fire Nation robe. His hand tingles oddly.

“Ow! Ow! Mercy, okay, mercy, I don’t have it!” Katara has caught Aang, and, apparently, put him in a headlock. “I don’t have it, it was Zuko! Zuko took it! Ow!”

“Hey!” says Zuko. “I didn’t do it! You probably did it!”

He’s pretty convincing, from Sokka’s point of view, but Katara will tackle anyone in this mood and that’s precisely what she does.

It’s at this point that Toph comes back with a new bowl of fire flakes. Her “What’s going on here?” begins a little before she finishes getting the door open.

“Katara’s crazy! She’s attacking me!” says Zuko, his hair dripping wet, struggling on the ground by his chair.

“Zuko stole Katara’s hair band,” Aang explains.

“No he didn’t,” says Toph. “Sokka has it.”

Katara backs away from Zuko’s kicking legs and glares at Sokka. Sheepishly, he holds up the hair band.

A sort of water-arm grabs it from him, then returns and breaks over his head. “Unfair,” he sputters. “It was Zuko’s idea.”

“Yeah, Zuko did have it first,” says Aang.

“Hey,” says Zuko, from the floor.

“Eh, credit where credit is due, buddy,” says Sokka, going to help him up. “We had a good run.” He reaches out a hand, and Zuko grips it.

“You’re soaked,” says Zuko, cracking a smile.

“So are you.”

“Not for long,” says Zuko smugly, and Sokka can see that he’s already steaming, the water evaporating off of his face and out of his hair, and Sokka has _no_ idea how that’s supposed to work but it’s some kind of cosmic joke that the universe gave him a waterbending sister who could (and loved to) splash him at any time of day, and then made him the only one around who couldn’t magically dry off.

“Everyone is against me,” Katara announces dramatically. She’s pulling her hair up on top of her head again. “Toph, my only ally, let’s go somewhere else and eat all the fire flakes.”

“Sounds _good_ to _me!_ ” says Toph, slamming the door open with a stamp of her foot.

Katara is in a phase right now where she’s trying out different hair styles. This month it’s all piled on top of her head. She looks like a Fire Nation noble lady. She looks very pretty, honestly, but also not-Katara, and as her brother, Sokka is morally obligated to mock any noticeable change in his sister’s appearance.

Toph, meanwhile, has gotten over her obvious crush on Sokka, then her obvious crush on Zuko, and has now moved on to following Katara around everywhere like a grouchy tomcat. It’s pretty cute. Sokka doesn’t think Katara has noticed yet.

Aang is in a phase where he’s _really trying_ to get muscle definition. So far, it isn’t working, but he makes Iroh measure his biceps every day. Sokka overheard the old guy telling him his efforts would pay off “any day now – in fact, if you look at it from this angle, I think I can see it starting already!”

Suki is in a phase where, well, she’s back with the Kyoshi Warriors. And also not really writing to Sokka. Sokka is beginning to resign himself to the idea that it’s probably not going to work out. It sucks, but also, he’s with his sister and all their friends, he’s got so much to do that he falls into bed exhausted every night, and he gets to live in a fucking palace. So he’s okay. He hopes she is too.

Zuko is in a phase where he ... works. It’s hard to read that guy. He seems to feel like the world will come crashing down around all their ears if he doesn’t work constantly, from early in the morning to late into the night, on everything from drafting policy to putting together reparations to writing his own speeches to cleaning all of the old imperialist iconography out of the store room where they’ve stashed it. It’s hard to get him to stop, because he’ll just look at you and go, “I’m literally the Fire Lord. It’s my job.”

Sokka doesn’t “go through phases,” of course, because he was born perfect.

So that’s them, the saviors of the world. Once you get to know them, it would be hard to expect anything else.

* * *

Sokka is sitting under the gazebo at the end of the turtleduck pond, the one that overlooks the valley. The sun is setting, and he likes to come here and watch it. Sometimes he gazes off toward the south and wonders how his dad is getting on. The letters all seem promising, but Sokka won’t feel right until he gets to see it for himself. 

Maybe once Aang gets back from the Earth Kingdom (he’s off again on one of his many summonses), Sokka will ask him to take Sokka and Katara for a visit. Maybe they can all go. Toph would hate it, but they can … um … bring some rocks along for her. Scatter them on an ice floe. Sokka imagines Toph insisting on staying on _her_ ice floe, and grins.

Aang will, of course, want to go penguin sledding. Zuko’s welcome will be lukewarm, but Sokka’s sure everyone will warm up to him (no pun intended) in no time. He imagines Gran-Gran fussing over the young Fire Lord, feeding him double shares of hot sea prunes; imagines bringing Zuko along to train with the guys. To be fair, he wouldn’t fit right in, but … Sokka hadn’t fit in once, and he’d grown into it. Had he? He _had_ , he’d earned their respect, had known that they would welcome him if he wanted to join them, but …

“Mind if I join you?”

Sokka jumps. “Aah! Zuko!”

Zuko gives one of his rare laughs. It always makes Sokka feel good to see it, like maybe the guy is going to be okay after all. “Jeez, didn’t realize you were that deep in thought. I can leave you to it.”

“No, no, I’m good,” says Sokka, consciously deepening his voice – it had gone higher-pitched than usual. “Come sit.”

Zuko takes a seat next to him. He stares out over the valley, towards the sunset. “I come here to think sometimes too,” he offers unexpectedly.

“Oh yeah?” says Sokka. “It’s a good spot.”

“It’s nice,” says Zuko.

Thinking maybe Zuko would want some time to himself, Sokka says, “I was probably gonna go back inside in a few minutes, once the sun’s down. Don’t worry about me.”

Two hours later, the sun is definitely down, the moon is high and gibbous, and the firefly-moths are lighting up all over the valley, thick as snow.

“So yeah,” Sokka is saying, “I guess the hyper-masculine climate of the Southern Water Tribe really affected me more than I thought growing up.”

“Wow,” says Zuko. “I can’t believe you had to go through all that.”

“It’s like, I _watched_ Katara have to fight to be respected as a warrior. Warrior is the highest honor we have, and she totally deserved it – way more than me – but nobody could see it. _I_ couldn’t see it for a while, until I met the Kyoshi warriors and saw how totally badass they are. But the thing is, there’s a lot of shit that’s good and important that, like, _isn’t_ about being a warrior. And I want to do a lot of that shit! Sometimes, Dad would make fun of me for wanting to cook dinner. But I’m a _great_ cook.”

“Wow,” says Zuko. “That sounds … really rou—” He coughs. “That sounds like it must have been hard.”

“It _is!”_ Sokka gesticulates. “You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I should get into this feminism stuff. Maybe find a book about it. You know?”

“That sounds like it might help,” says Zuko, looking earnest.

“And I think it’s getting to be time we get back down there,” says Sokka. “I want to see how it’s all going. I’m worried that it won’t be the same as I remember. I’m worried it _will_ be the same. And …” He looks down. “I have to see my family. I miss Gran-Gran so much.”

Zuko is silent. After a moment, looking away, he says, “Yes … of course. Your family … is important to you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll show you around,” says Sokka. “I’ve been thinking about this, and yeah, at first? Major awkwardness. But everyone who fought at Sozin’s Comet and knows what you did will vouch for you. And Gran-Gran will _love_ you.”

“Sokka,” Zuko says, looking surprised. What he wants to say is, _You want me to come with you? I didn’t expect that. I’m pleased, and honored_. What he says instead is, “I can’t go all the way down to the South Pole! I have – you know – duties!”

“Haha,” says Sokka, “you said ‘doodies’.”

“Sokka!”

“Just take a vacation, man, come on,” Sokka wheedles. “There’s gotta be a way they’ll let you do that. Think of it as good international relations.”

Zuko is quiet. He looks down. “Maybe I could do that,” he says.

“Yes! Alright, we’ll wait until Aang’s back so we can go on Appa. And take him too, of course. That way it won’t take as much time out of Your Lordship’s busy duties. I’ll check The Schedule tomorrow.” Sokka is self-assigned to be in charge of keeping The Schedule, which keeps track of all their responsibilities – mostly all of Aang’s invitations to appear publicly, to resolve various disputes, to calm angry spirits, or to attend someone’s wedding. Most of the latter are sent without any hope Aang will actually attend, but Aang loves a wedding, and goes to as many as he can. Sokka was his plus one to a minor Earth noble’s bash last month, and it slapped.

Zuko has the second-most responsibilities, but, Sokka privately thinks, his are much less fun. Mostly, everything boils down to a glorified apology. When he does get to travel, it’s to some overlooked Fire Nation town where the stationed military had gotten out of hand, or to some ravaged Earth Kingdom settlement in need of assessment for reparations. The guy needs a _good_ vacation, one where he doesn’t have to work or apologize constantly for shit his dad did.

“That sounds good,” says Zuko, still looking down. “Um. Thanks for … inviting me along.”

“Of course,” says Sokka. And then he tries a new trick he learned recently: he doesn’t say anything else.

After a minute of picking at a thread on his robe, Zuko says, “My dad, he didn’t really take me anywhere.”

Sokka pulls one knee up to his chest and looks sidelong at Zuko.

“He didn’t really travel much, either, and when he did it was always to oversee some war effort. I think, maybe if he traveled more, he would have learned something about the world. Been different.”

“Oh yeah?” People thought Zuko was standoffish, but he was actually really easy to talk to, once you got to knowing him and he got to trusting you.

“I learned a lot when I traveled. Different ways of life. You know –” inhale. Glance up to look at Sokka for reassurance. Sokka tries to look as earnest and receptive as possible. “I really, um, related to what you said before. About the way you grew up. I was also, um, expected to be a certain way. A warrior. A real man. My father had all of these ideas about how I should be. He loved power, and he needed me to love it too, but not enough to take it from him. I think he was scared if I got too strong, I would try to unseat him the way he probably killed Firelord Azulon.”

“No way,” says Sokka. “He _killed_ Azulon? His dad? Your grandpa?”

Zuko looks up, and, unexpectedly, quirks a smile. “Fucked up, right?”

“Hey, your family being nuts is kind of old news.” Sokka grins back, and watches, pleased, as Zuko’s smile relaxes and becomes more genuine. “But tell me more about, um, what you were telling me. About your dad’s expectations.”

“Um, yeah,” says Zuko, looking out across the valley. “Um, everyone kind of knew, growing up, that I wasn’t going to be what they wanted me to be. My mom – she tried to protect me from them trying to change me. Azula just made fun of me constantly. When she got a little older, I stopped sparring with her, because she would hurt me for real whenever she could. I think my mom convinced my dad I was normal, to keep him from getting suspicious, but he …” Zuko turns cinematically so that his scar is all Sokka can see of his face. “He figured it out.”

“Zuko, I’m sorry,” says Sokka. “You were a nice guy. You didn’t deserve to be punished for that.”

“Yeah, being … nicer than them. That.” Zuko takes a deep breath. “And. My dad’s ideas about masculinity, like you were saying … um.” He gathers himself. “I never talked about it with anyone until I was traveling with Uncle. I don’t think I could ever admit it to myself. But Uncle sat me down one day, and said it was okay if I felt … however I felt. However I felt was okay.”

“That it was okay to be … nice?” says Sokka slowly, trying to follow.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” says Zuko, but Sokka doesn’t think that’s what he had been trying to say.

Sokka thinks about that. More and more, he and everyone else had started to feel fiercely protective of Zuko. The other day, he and Toph had walked into a room in the palace they hadn’t been before, with Zuko a little bit behind them, and the room had a portrait of young Zuko and Azula, posing as little serious-faced warriors, twin sides of a firebending form. Before Zuko could see, Toph had stamped her foot and simply turned that chunk of the wall around. They were all too aware that living in the palace, for Zuko, was something like walking through a minefield every day on the way to breakfast. After all this time, the guy deserved some good breaks in life.

“Sokka I’m gay,” Zuko says, all in a rush.

Sokka blinks. “Oh,” he says. Then it sinks in, and he whips around to look at him. “Oh!” Suddenly he is very aware of Zuko, physically, and can’t stop noticing that – up until a split second ago when he’d turned – his leg had been touching Zuko’s at the knee. That part of his leg burns like a brand. His brain, working too fast for him to catch up to it in time, supplies him with a vision of Zuko, some faceless man, and a palpable awareness of what might happen between them. His stomach tips. He wishes he weren’t thinking of his friend like this, he knows it’s inappropriate and rude and unfair, but … well … he’s panicking! He isn’t in control over his own thoughts!

“Cool!” he says. “Cool, cool, cool, cool that’s really cool Zuko!”

Zuko looks uncomfortable. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No,” Sokka denies, but inside he thinks _maybe he’s right, clearly I can’t handle this_. “It’s totally okay. I, um, accept you and everything.”

“Okay.” But Zuko folds his arms tight across his chest. “You’re just. Looking at me funny.”

“Well –” Sokka _knows_ this isn’t what Zuko needs. What’s he supposed to do? “I guess I’ve never really met a gay person before.”

Zuko snorts. “I highly doubt that.” He stands abruptly. “Maybe it’s just that none of them have wanted to come out to you before.” He turns and gestures with his hand; a flame is conjured into existence above his palm. It’s the type of fire he always uses as a lantern. In the flickering light, Sokka can see his face more clearly. He looks angry. Sokka knows Zuko well enough to know he’s only ever really angry when he’s trying to cover up vulnerability or hurt. “Forget I said anything. I’m going to bed.”

Sokka stands there, watching Zuko’s figure cut stiffly across the courtyard and away from him, cupping the small flickering light in his hand close to his chest. “Zuko, I’m sorry,” he calls out, but Zuko doesn’t turn. Sokka balls his hands into fists. There must be something – something he could do. But what? What could he say to make Zuko turn around, take it back, stop being angry?

He comes up empty, and Zuko disappears inside, and nothing is fixed. Sokka paces in a tight circle, then kicks the side of the gazebo, hard. It’s not very satisfying. He picks up one of the smooth stones from the neatly-arranged rock garden and lobs it into the turtleduck pond. It makes a _plunk_ , and something flaps in the dark. He immediately feels guilty.

Back in the South Pole, when he was just learning to hold a club, some of the older warriors oversaw his training. Firm but kind. _Sometimes you have to take the hit. It’s okay. Shake it off, Sokka. Get up._

He breathes in once, a shaky breath, and lets himself feel the blooming sting of frustration and shame. He breathes until the sting abates. Sokka fixes stuff, that’s his thing. He’s solved way harder problems than this. He just has to think.

  
  


* * *

“Katara? You’re a feminist, right?”

Sokka climbs into the other twin bed, not looking at Katara. Katara is up, lamp on, reading.

“Yes,” she says, wary. “Unless you are about to say something I’m going to hate. Then I’ll be an _angry_ feminist.”

“Do you know about any books on feminism?”

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” Sokka turns over on his back, pulls the covers up. “I’d like to read one.”

“Oh.” Katara also turns on her back, stares fondly up at the ceiling. “I wish I could help, but honestly, I learned everything I know from the school of hard knocks. Sometimes my older brother was a little bit shitty and I had to stand up to him.”

She grins at him, and Sokka winces. “Sorry.” He’s been apologizing a lot tonight. “I know I said some stupid stuff when we were kids. If it helps, I don’t mind that you can kick my ass.”

“You’ve gotten a lot better about it,” she says seriously, and he feels deeply grateful to her. Katara is the best sister. “So, why do you want to read a book about feminism?”

“No real reason,” says Sokka. “Just been thinking a lot about that stuff from when we were kids. And Zuko agrees it might help.”

“Zuko, huh?” says Katara. “Didn’t know he was into that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, he’s _definitely_ a –” Sokka feels the secret leap to the front of his tongue, and has to bite it. “A big – supporter – of _all_ human rights.”

“Huh,” says Katara, not sounding too interested. For a moment, Sokka is dying to confide in her, to talk with her about everything he’d just learned, to get her advice on what to say to convince Zuko he could still trust him. But he knows he can’t.

So, he just blows out the light, turns over, and goes to sleep.

* * *

Since Katara doesn’t know any books about feminism, Sokka asks Toph the next day, and, after being laughed out of the room, goes to the palace’s extensive library and simply finds one himself.

He learns the words _toxic masculinity_ and says “Oh yeah” out loud. He reads a cross-cultural examination of Water Tribe and Fire Nation masculinity. He isn’t sure how this book survived in the old Fire Lord’s library, because it’s pretty knowledgeable about the Water Tribe and pretty not racist about it. He reads about how boys are taught not to show affection for people, especially each other.

Boys showing affection for each other reminds him of Zuko. He wonders if there’s anything in this book on gay people. He flips through, scanning the pages. It turns out there’s a whole chapter. He begins to read.

An hour later, he gets up, gets some blank paper, and sits down again. He fills a few pages with notes. In another hour, he gets up again and fetches his stack of records of the current policy proposals under way in Zuko’s new government

There. That’s the one. Sokka underlines something on the page, and sits back. He’s sore from all the sitting and his eyes hurt a little, and he’s late for dinner. But he’s smiling. It feels good to have a plan.

  
  


* * *

“I have something to add.”

A post-lunch hush has settled over what Sokka thinks of as the most boring room in the palace. The rustling of papers. Old people coughing. Katara trying not to fall asleep in her chair. Aang actually falling asleep in his chair.

(It’s actually really funny; usually no one calls him out on it, him being the Avatar, but this one time, one of the more odious old men had the audacity to say something. Zuko had said – in his most condescending voice – “Don’t you know? He’s the _Avatar_ . He has to _meditate_. It’s part of his job, Dozu.”)

Sokka feels like a little boy putting on his dad’s warpaint in here. Everyone else is over the age of probably like ninety. White Lotus members. Sympathetic leaders of local governments handpicked and promoted rapidly out of obscurity. Even a few (like Dozu) who are members of old Fire nation noble families; nobody really trusts them, but if they had never provably committed war crimes, it’s hard to get rid of them.

And then there’s Aang, who’s barely thirteen, Katara, who’s fourteen, Sokka, who’s sixteen, and Zuko, coming in as the oldest at a ripe seventeen. (Toph doesn’t really come to these, seeing as they’re “too fucking boring” and also seeing as she can’t read. Sokka envies her a little.)

They saved the world, so they get to be here, but they … don’t really know how to “make policy” and “administer justice.” If only the brave new world involved less paper-pushing and more boomerang-ing people who disagreed with you.

“Sokka,” answers Sangun, the de facto meeting leader, with some surprise. She’s the leader because she was the one to propose this bill: sweeping human rights expansions, some really thorough stuff; really _dense_ too, almost impossible for Sokka’s teenage attention span. But he’d read it. Take that, old people. This shit matters. “By all means,” Sangun says, “go ahead.”

“I’ve been reading through Section B of Proposition 411” boring, boring words are coming out of his mouth right now “and I want to clarify the wording. Or add something. Uh. Probably.” The worst thing about talking to these people is he always ends up stumbling over his words like a dumbass. _They_ never stumble, of course. They also don’t react to his stumbling at all. They just watch him blankly until he’s done.

“You oppose Section B of Proposition 411?” says Sangun. “I presumed it would have your full support.”

“It’s not that I oppose section B of Proposition 411,” says Sokka hastily. “Don’t get me wrong. I like Section B of Proposition 411. In fact, I think Section B of Proposition 411 is a really good idea. I just think that, maybe, uh, it could be extended, a little.”

“Extended how?”

“Well.” Sokka smooths out his scroll, squinting at the section in question. It’s hard to focus in here. “Right now it says, uh, that ‘all citizens shall be equal, regardless of nation of origin, and protected under’ – um, the law, basically. And that’s great! But a law like this should probably protect more people, not just based on nations.” He’s aware that lots of people are staring at him. He has an itch under his collar, and wishes he could scratch it. “Like. I’ve been reading a lot about feminism lately? And it seems like gender equality is, um, not always happening, and if we want to make it happen, we should probably have a law about it.”

Sangun looks surprised. “That’s a worthy point,” she says.

“Oh!” says Sokka. He’d made a worthy point? He’d made a worthy point! “Yes, I thought so too,” he says, more brightly. “Women’s rights are a big issue. We should probably talk to Fire Nation women just like we talked to immigrants from other nations living in the Fire Nation. Not just noble women, I mean, like farmers and fishers and stuff. So we can protect the rights of _all_ women.”

Sangun nods, writing busily. “We’ll have to do our research, as you say, but you should have the Council’s majority agreement,” she says, and gets a few nods from the rest of the room. “Was that all?”

“Um, if you could just add gay people too,” says Sokka. His heart leaps unexpectedly to his throat. Sangun’s pen pauses. “I definitely think we should make sure it’s clear that we’re protecting the rights of gay people.” No one says anything. “And bisexual people, of course,” Sokka goes on. “And by _gay_ I mean both men and women, so really we should probably just say _sexual orientation_.”

Why is no one saying anything? Sokka looks around the room. Katara is nodding slowly, looking just as confused as he is about the energy in the room. Zuko is white-faced at the head of the table, spine rigid, hands folded tightly. Abruptly, Sokka wishes that Aang were here. He _knows_ Aang would support him – even the most uptight of the councilors tend to listen to the Avatar.

He knows why Katara isn’t speaking up: if they ever both come forward on an issue, it tends to become a “Water Tribe thing” in the eyes of the Fire Nation councilors. He’s less clear on why Zuko isn’t saying anything. Or why he looks so pale. He’d thought that this … well, he’s doing this for justice, and because it’s the right thing to do, but also, he’s doing this for Zuko.

At last, Sangun clears her throat and says, “I see this is important to you, Sokka of the Water Tribe. However, our customs …” She looks, for a moment, unsure. “Homosexuality is frowned upon. It is, in fact, illegal.”

“I know that,” says Sokka. He’d read it in the book yesterday. “That’s why we need to change the law!”

Sangun doesn’t respond. She looks decidedly uncomfortable. Sokka looks from face to face in growing disbelief. “Tell me you guys don’t support keeping the ban,” he says. “What kind of backwards thinking is this? I mean, seriously people! The war is over! We won! Love and peace, man!”

Sangun’s jaw has set, and her eyes glitter with pride. Sokka is … genuinely shocked, and a bit shaken, and _come on, Zuko, I know you’re mad at me, but say something, man …_ “It may be easy for a Water Tribe boy like yourself to come in and say so,” she says, “but to Fire Nation citizens, the issue is more complicated. This is a hard year for my nation, Sokka of the Water Tribe. A good year, I think, but hard all the same. My people have been told all their lives that they’ve inherited the world, and now their nation is on its knees. We are proud keepers of custom, here, and it’s hard to let custom go, even when it’s the right thing to do. This might be hard for you to understand, but I have to pick my battles. We are letting go of many customs, now. Soon the people may decide they’ve had enough and turn against us. You do not know what you are asking us to risk.”

Katara stands abruptly. “So you support – what? Just keeping things as they are? Continuing to allow a – a whole _group_ of people to suffer?”

“Katara,” says Sokka, helplessly.

“It’s not acceptable!” she insists. “What kind of reform would it be if we left some people out? And I’ll have you know I’d say the same thing to my own government in the Water Tribe! In fact, I already have!”

Sangun stands, too. “All in favor –” She has to raise her voice over the murmuring in the room. “ _All in favor_ of the Water Tribes’ motion to add protections for homosexuality?”

Katara sticks her hand up in the air. Sokka does too. Three or four other councilors (the room holds over twenty) join them, but the rest of the room is still.

Sangun looks around. At the end of the table, Zuko seems to be completely frozen. Sangun’s eyes linger on the Fire Lord, and she nods once, abruptly. “So you see.” Her voice softens a little. “All in favor of the motion to add protections based on gender?”

Almost all the hands in the room go up.

“There,” says Sangun. Sokka thinks she’s trying to be conciliatory. “We will add those protections, per your suggestion.”

Sokka swallows. His face feels hot. “Protection for some, but not all,” he says flatly.

“Only for now,” Sangun says. “In a few years, when the people have had time to get accustomed to the new ways, we can revisit the issue.”

“I …” says Sokka. He avoids looking at Zuko. He feels horribly naive. He had really thought this would be easy – he would only have to bring it up, and they, being reasonable people most of the time, would all come on board. And then Zuko would know that Sokka isn’t just an ass and really does care, and forgive him. “I just …” But what else can he say? His shoulders slump. “Sure.”

He doesn’t really hear the rest of the meeting. His face burns, and he feels like a little kid again, not old enough to go to the war with the rest of the men. He can feel Katara’s eyes on him, knows she’ll be equal parts righteous and sympathetic, but he can’t look at her or he’ll do something embarrassing, like cry.

* * *

Iroh pours water from the pitcher into the teapot without spilling a drop. The familiarity of the action tugs something deep in Zuko’s heart. He can’t help but be comforted. Before the tea shop in Ba Sing Se, his uncle’s hands shook a little more. Serving customers taught them both to be precise. To practice a hundred times a day is, or so the old Fire Nation saying goes, the only way to learn the bending forms. Only then will your bending become part of your soul. And they had poured a hundred cups of tea a day.

Iroh cups the pot in his hands. In a few moments, steam begins to escape from under the lid. “So, my nephew,” he says, “you seem troubled. Tell me, what happened today?”

“Did something have to happen for me to come visit you?” says Zuko cagily.

“Of course not!” says Iroh. “I always welcome your company and I love spending time with you. But something in your face tells me that not all is well.” He pours two cups of tea. “If you wanted to discuss it, I would be happy to hear about it. But, if you would just like to share a cup of tea with your old uncle, I would be happy to do that too.”

Zuko takes his tea. His uncle has heated it to precisely the perfect temperature for jasmine. He closes his eyes when he takes the first sip.

The thing about his uncle is, he really deserves his own tea shop. And yes, he deserves to serve tea to the fucking Earth King himself. The Earth King should fall over himself for the honor of being served tea by Uncle Iroh. If the world had its head on right, Iroh would be serving tea to royalty every day.

It occurs to Zuko – as it does, frequently, along with the sensation of being gently poleaxed in the forehead – that technically, this is already happening, as he, Zuko, is the Fire Lord. As he always does, he sets this thought aside for another day. At this rate, he’ll go to his grave before it ever really sinks in.

Anyway, it’s because of him that his uncle is here, instead of in the Earth Kingdom pouring a hundred cups a day at the Jasmine Dragon. The tea shop can survive without Iroh for a little while (he said in his letter, received only a day before he showed up at the palace). Unspoken was that Zuko needs his uncle around for a little longer.

“Something did happen,” says Zuko. He takes another sip of his tea. “I came out to Sokka.” Face hidden behind the cup.

“Ah,” says Iroh. Casual, like they’re talking about anything else – the weather, the latest in Fire Nation fashion, the algae at the bottom of the turtleduck pond. “That must have taken a lot of bravery. I’m proud of you for telling your friend.”

Zuko doesn’t say anything, just holds his cup in front of his face until his heart stops pounding quite so fast.

“You know,” says Iroh, “our friends might not always say the right thing, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still care about us. And I know that Sokka cares about _you_ . No matter how he reacted, you can be sure of that. And choosing to confide in a trusted friend is never a wrong choice. If the friend responds badly, then that is _their_ wrong choice, not yours.”

“It isn’t just that.” Zuko had been so angry, when Sokka looked at him like – like he’d just found himself sitting next to a stranger. And then Zuko had felt stupid. He had expected, somehow, understanding. He had wanted – hoped – for Sokka to _get it_. He was such an idiot. “Today he came into council and asked to add legal protections for … gay people … to the human rights bill we’re working on. Just out of nowhere. There was a big scene. Of course they voted it down, but they way they all talked about it –” Zuko breaks off, stares hard at the table.

“Oh, Zuko,” says Iroh. He reaches compulsively across the table and puts a hand on Zuko’s wrist. Zuko turns his hand over and grips it tightly.

“I’m so angry at Sokka,” says Zuko. “He has no idea what it’s like to be talked about like that. I thought I was going to die in there! They won’t consider it. Not for a few years. It would be too much change for everyone.” He feels deeply depressed at the thought. “They’re probably right.”

“No,” says Iroh strongly. “They’re wrong.”

Zuko looks up. “Really?”

“It is _never_ right to leave your own people to suffer,” says Iroh. “Many things can wait, but not people. What about all the gay and lesbian Fire Nation citizens? Would this be too much change for them?”

“I guess not,” says Zuko.

“And would it be too much change for you?”

“No,” says Zuko. For a moment, his heart dares to hope a little, but before he can start feeling any better, the fear comes back. “I just wish –” _that I didn’t have to be the one to do it._

The prospects of going back into that room are mortifying enough as it is. Why did Sokka have to bring it up in the first place? Zuko could have gone on without mentioning it. Maybe he would have brought it up on his own when the time was right.

He has a feeling his uncle wouldn’t be too impressed with that line of reasoning.

“How did your friend Sokka react, when his proposal was not accepted?” Iroh asks.

“He seemed surprised,” says Zuko. “He should have asked me. I could have told him they’d say no.”

“Sokka is a compassionate and bright young man. It’s possible he already realizes that he ought to have consulted with you first. His people are not as unfortunately prejudiced as ours in that regard.” Iroh watches him carefully. “I can only imagine that he set out wishing to let you know of his support for you. Do you think that he would have been as passionate had he not cared so much for your well-being?”

That was the most mortifying part of the whole thing. Even if nobody else in the room knew why Sokka was doing this, _Zuko_ knew, and he felt like everyone could see it on him.

There comes a tentative rapping at the door to Iroh’s chambers.

“Who is it?” Iroh calls, rising.

“It’s Sokka,” comes the muffled voice. “Is Zuko there?”

Iroh looks at Zuko; Zuko panics but nods stiffly. “He is,” Iroh calls. “Would you like to join us for a cup of tea?”

The door opens. Sokka stands in it, looking hangdog. “Zuko,” he says, closing the door and coming forward. Then he drops into a very formal bow. “I am so sorry. Seriously. I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I had no idea I was going to put you through that.”

Zuko is alarmed. “Stop that,” he says. “Stand up.”

“This isn’t because you’re Fire Lord,” says Sokka, still bowing. “It’s because you’re my friend and I hurt you.”

“Okay, I get it,” says Zuko. “Will you stand up now?”

Sokka rights himself. It’s rare to see him looking this serious. “You left so fast, I couldn’t find you. Katara wants to know why you didn’t say anything and I told her I’d look for you. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about – you know. I looked in your rooms, and then by the pond. Are you okay? Well, I mean, maybe not _okay_ , but …” He finally trails off.

“I’m alright,” Zuko says. He thinks he can see vigorous gesturing coming from his uncle in the corner of his eye – _say what you feel, Prince Zuko_ – but when he turns to look, Iroh is just making more tea. “Um. I guess I’m not happy.”

“I’m sorry. I know I overstepped. In about a thousand ways.”

“You didn’t overstep,” says Zuko, surprising himself. “Yes, you could have talked to me, and we could have planned a better way to bring it up together. But it’s your right to sit in that room and talk about what you think is important, the same as anyone else.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I failed. And at this in particular –” Sokka seems to search for words. “I know it’s … important to you,” he says awkwardly. “Look, Zuko. I’m sorry. For this and for, you know, before. I think I sort of get now how it must’ve …” He runs a hand distractedly through his hair. It’s gotten longer, Zuko can’t help but notice. (It doesn’t look bad.) “In there … it made me really think about what it would have meant for this stuff to be, like, _illegal_. You grew up here, and you … would have always been around people who talk like that.”

Ouch. Sokka can be pretty perceptive. “Why don’t you let my uncle serve you some tea?” says Zuko, gesturing. “He makes the best jasmine in the Fire Nation. In the Earth Kingdom, too.”

Iroh pours cups for each of them. “So,” he says gently, “it didn’t go so well today.”

“That’s an understatement,” groans Sokka. “I feel like I’ve been run over. I can never look Sangun in the eye again. She made me feel like a little baby.”

“You are young, it’s true,” says Iroh. “But you have experience beyond what most would expect from your age. It is easy to forget that, at least for old geezers like Sangun and myself, ha ha!”

“Experience fighting in a war,” says Sokka. “Not with this.”

“Experience traveling the world,” says Iroh. “You have met more people and seen more places than most of the people in that room. You have a valuable perspective to contribute, Sokka. Certain things are clear to you that are not so clear to them. Search yourself. Do you really think Sangun made the right decision?”

“I,” says Sokka, taken aback. “She says it wasn’t the right time. But I kept thinking, what _is_ the right time? And, the sooner we change things, the sooner a lot of people’s lives get a lot easier. So …”

Sokka sips his tea, looking thoughtful. Zuko screws up his courage. He says, “I disagree with Sangun too.”

“Really?! I mean – I don’t know why I’m surprised, you’re literally – you know – but, you just didn’t …” Say anything. Yeah, Zuko knows.

“I …” How to explain this? “I couldn’t.” That wasn’t quite right. “I _felt_ like I couldn’t. I felt like if I did … they would all be able to tell, somehow.”

“Oh,” Sokka says.

“There is no shame in what you’ve gone through today,” says Iroh, when the silence stretches. “Today both of you tried to stand against the world alone, and that is one of the hardest things you can do.” Zuko wants to argue, wants to say that he didn’t try to stand against anything, that it had all been Sokka. But he remembers how hard it had been just to stand in the room, to hold his ground, and to do that every day when he knew what they would think of him, and he thinks maybe he knows what his uncle means. “I won’t try to tell you it will ever be easy,” says Iroh, “but it will be much less difficult if you stand together.”

Zuko meets Sokka’s eyes across the table, and smiles.

***

Much as Sokka hates all the official documents, he _does_ have a head for them. And he has a plan. A better one. His brain is sparking like good flint. He has so much energy, he can’t think of anything else. His hand gets a cramp from gripping the pen and he still can’t write fast enough.

He isn’t alone, either. Katara is there to make fun of him when he looks up distractedly and starts a thought in the middle of a sentence. Toph is there to give detailed advice on how exactly to manipulate rich and powerful people into agreeing with what you’re saying, which turns out to be remarkably useful. Iroh is there with a kind word for all of them, an eye for proofreading, and enough experience with government stuff to help Sokka decode some of the more arcane language in these documents. And Zuko is there too, still with a haunted look Sokka hates, flinching whenever anyone says the word “gay”, but gripping the edge of the table so hard it would take wild ostrich-horses to drag him away. Between Iroh keeping a firm hand on his shoulder, and Toph badgering him to tell her what various documents say, he does get a little better; at the very least, by the end of the evening, he’s not so monosyllabic.

The next day, Sokka feels cautiously optimistic. All morning they work on some judicial bullshit and Sokka’s bouncing in his seat, wishing he’d had a minute this morning to train, missing the feeling of a weapon in his hand. After lunch is the Council meeting. Sokka finds Zuko several minutes early to the meeting, waiting in the hall outside the room. Sokka steps quietly into place beside him.

“For the record, I wanted to let you know that I cared,” says Sokka. He looks sidelong at Zuko, who looks pretty dope right now – all Fire Lorded up, silk everything, tassels hanging off every visible inch of fabric, hair swept up high, gold in his hair. “Just. Uh. Cause I wasn’t sure if you knew.”

Beneath all of his trappings, Zuko looks pale. He’s holding the page with the speech they’d written last night in his hand. It’s wrinkling a little. “What?”

“With the policy,” says Sokka. “I guess I wanted to make it up to you. I knew you were angry with me. When you told me about … the thing.” He lowers his voice. “The _gay_ thing.”

Zuko looks around nervously, but they’re alone in the hall outside the meeting room. In a terse, barely-there voice, he says, “That’s okay.”

Sokka realizes his error. He’s not _that_ dense, okay, and he’s really starting to wrap his head around how Zuko ticks. He casts around; sees an open door across the hall, and pulls Zuko into what looks suspiciously like a former general’s office, with depressions on the walls for weapons and one of those old horned helmets gathering dust on a high shelf. “Can we talk in here?” he asks. Zuko nods. Sokka props his hip on the general’s desk. “Look. I didn’t know it was illegal until I read it in a book, so I had no idea how much you had to trust me, to tell me. I just wanted to show you that your trust wasn’t, well. In vain.” He scratches a spot on the back of his head. “Although I guess I messed it up a little.”

“It really is okay,” says Zuko. “It’s …” he takes a deep breath, steadies himself “… It’s okay. I, uh, got the message.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. And Sokka …” Zuko looks determined now. Something shines in his eyes. “Thank for bringing it forward. I don’t know how long I would have avoided the issue if you hadn’t. Maybe for a long time. And you and Uncle are right, we owe it to my people to do better for them. So thanks. For being brave.”

Amazing what good posture will do for a guy, Sokka thinks ridiculously. How had he never noticed what a regal set to his mouth Zuko has, what a high royal forehead? He looks every inch the Fire Lord. “Well, it could be argued that it was ignorance rather than bravery, but I’ll take it,” he says. Zuko smiles.

The hallways is beginning to fill with the sounds of advisors returning from the lunch break. “Sounds like it’s time,” Sokka says, taking a deep breath. “Cool. Are you ready?”

“Ready,” Zuko confirms. He pushes his shoulders back. A muscle in his jaw is shifting, and his eyes are bright, and he looks so brave but so young, too. So Sokka crosses the floor and kind of – grabs his shoulders. Both hands. Just holds him between his palms, looks him in the eyes, and thinks as hard as he can, _You’ve got this. It_ _will_ _work._

It seems to help a little. At the very least, a bit of color returns to Zuko’s face.

It’s go time. Inside the room, after Zuko calls the council to order, Sokka stands. Katara stands too, at his shoulder. “Members of the Council,” he says formally. He can do this. He can get through this without stumbling or saying _um_ or sounding like a baby. “I want to call your attention to our conversation from yesterday about amendments to Section B of Proposition 411, regarding human rights protections.” Uncomfortable shifting. It’s okay, they’ll get over it. “First, I would like to extend my apologies to Councilor Sangun and to the Fire Nation. I spoke out of turn when I judged your culture, and I sincerely apologize.”

He bows deeply in the Fire Nation style. Beside him, Katara takes a deep breath. “I want to apologize as well,” she says. “I was also out of line. We didn’t understand your history on this issue, so it wasn’t our place to tell you how to make change happen.” She bows, too. After an appropriate amount of time, they rise again.

So far, so good. Sokka continues. “To correct our error, we decided to talk to someone who does understand the Fire Nation well. Which would be, uh, Fire Lord Zuko.” Sokka gestures, trying not to show how self-conscious he feels talking to Zuko like this. “Fire Lord, you may have the floor.”

The room shifts, looks warily to Zuko.

Zuko stands up. He smooths the paper on the table in front of him. “Yesterday,” he begins, voice cracking a little, “the Council moved to delay extending human rights protections based on sexual orientation.” Pause for a deep breath; his hand pressing the corner of the paper to the table is shaking. “We cited the traditional values of the Fire Nation and the amount of change our people are currently experiencing, stating the need to pick our battles.” Zuko’s voice holds more steady as he picks up speed. “I appreciate Councilor Sangun’s wisdom about keeping the trust of the people of the Fire Nation. However, I respectfully insist that this is a battle we need to pick.” His voice comes close to cracking again, but he holds it together. Sokka wishes he could shoot him a thumbs up or something, anything to show how fucking psyched he is about how great Zuko is doing.

Zuko continues. “We have a duty to all Fire Nation citizens. Currently, same-sex relationships are criminalized. At the same time, those who experience same-sex attraction make up a significant portion of the population. While some of our people might oppose changing the law, it is essential for others that we do so. We owe it to _them_ to make this nation safe for them.”

Zuko had made it extremely clear that today would _not_ be the day he came out to his Council. Probably a good choice.

“This is an issue of human rights, and it can’t wait. If we want to be better than we were before, we have to start thinking of human rights issues as the battles we do pick, always. If we’re concerned about the amount of change our people are experiencing, we will just – well, respectfully, we’ll just have to slow down something else. Like, if we ought to levy a tax, but _that’s too much change_ ” – he’s off script now – “then maybe we have a lean winter, or sell off some of the silverware. We just can’t –” Zuko pauses, and collects himself. “I’m willing to make personal sacrifices for the good of the people,” he says. “I’m not willing to make any of my people into sacrifices themselves.”

Sokka wrote most of the speech, but those last words are Zuko’s. Hearing them makes him feel like something bright is blooming inside him, a furious kind of hope. This is it, he realizes, reeling. This isn’t Zuko the hotheaded kid who chased them around the world, or Zuko the friend who’s often too serious but can be convinced to raid the kitchens late at night if you ask him just right. This is Zuko the Fire Lord.

“Ultimately,” Zuko says, “my word on this is final. But –” He speaks carefully. “I do … value your insight, and I hope for your support in finding a way to make this change as painless as possible. So, I’m open to talking about any questions or concerns that you might have.”

He sits back down, abruptly, like someone cut all of his strings. Sokka wants to applaud. He looks at Katara. Her eyes are shining.

Someone shifts. Clears their throat. “Fire Lord, you have my support.”

* * *

Sokka wishes he could say it was as easy as that. But the discussion lasts for a long time. It’s always a messy business getting a room like that on board with something controversial. Fortunately, a significant portion of the Council falls in step with Zuko immediately – including Sangun, somewhat surprisingly – and they do most of the talking to convert the dissenters. Zuko, Sokka, and Katara don’t really have to say anything.

Sokka still wishes Aang were here. Maybe when he gets back, he can talk to the handful of remaining Council members who still seemed to dissent by the end of the meeting. At the same time, it’s really nice to be able to show that the Fire Nation is capable of doing something good all on its own, without the oversight of the Avatar.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Sokka turns around. Zuko is standing there, back in normal clothes, hesitating on the edge of joining him. Sokka is sitting under the gazebo again, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t kind of hoping Zuko would show up eventually. “Come sit,” he says, gesturing.

Zuko takes the seat next to Sokka in the gazebo with a yawn and a slump to his shoulders. “Tired?” Sokka asks, and kind of punches his shoulder, not hard, just a press of knuckles.

“All _day._ I didn’t really sleep last night.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell at all.”

“It’s the posture.” Zuko leans his cheek to the cool stone of the post on the gazebo and looks out over the valley. “My mother taught me that if I kept good posture, I could be tired, injured, poisoned, whatever, and nobody would even notice I was off.”

It’s rare to hear Zuko talk about his mother. “Sounds like she was a smart lady,” Sokka says.

“She was.” Zuko looks a little wistful. “She knew all the tricks for not making a fool of yourself around noble people. I would have been miserable without her. Well. Miserable-er.”

Since Zuko almost never opens up about this stuff, Sokka wants to say the right thing: something reassuring, without being cloying, that tells Zuko _you can trust me_. What comes out of his mouth is, “Growing up here sounds like it was whack, man.”

Zuko says, “Yeah. Thanks, Sokka.” He looks like he really means it.

Sokka bumps Zuko with his knee. Zuko bumps back. Sokka feels a warm sort of something.

“I was thinking,” Zuko goes on. Tiredness is making him talkative. Or maybe it’s something else – relief? “I guess I have to start worrying about having kids now. I just assumed that I was never going to. But I could now. With whoever I end up with.”

“You sure could, buddy.”

“And then what do I do?” Zuko goes on. “Do I raise them here? That didn’t work out very well last time.”

“I think you should give them to Aang,” says Sokka. “That’s what I’m going to do. I just feel like he’d be a great dad.”

“You’re right,” says Zuko. “Glad we clarified that.”

“No problem.”

“And now, there’s no reason to wait on getting started,” Zuko goes on. “It’s all legal, and Aang will take the kids. I figure my odds are pretty good.”

“You’re young, strong, at the height of your career …”

“Exactly.”

“Not to mention the Fire Lord. You’re a catch!”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

A cool breeze.

“Can I tell you something, Sokka?”

“Sure.”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“Okay.”

“Or say anything to anyone else.”

“Now I’m interested. What is it?”

“You have to promise!”

“On my honor as a warrior of the Water Tribe, I promise I will not laugh at you or tell anyone else.”

“Okay. So you, uh, remember the other night, when I came out to you.”

“It rings a bell.”

“I kind of thought … that you might be a little bi.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The lights in the houses in the valley below make merry little patterns. Sokka feels pleasantly drowsy. A great contentedness wells up in him.

“Well, say something.”

Sokka shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Ugh. You’re so aggravating.”

“Got you hot and bothered?”

“ _No!”_

“Relax, I was kidding. I dunno, I just don’t know what to say. I don’t mind that you thought that, if that helps.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Aww, thanks. You too.”


End file.
